Taking Chances
by tinytoppler95
Summary: Meet Franchesca Milanos. Figure skater, Tammy and Tommy's best friend, average student, and... hockey player? Will she like being a hockey player or will she stick to figure skating?
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **Hey guys! As you may have noticed, I've deleted all of my stories a while back saying that I may discontinue writing or re-writing them. I must be honest, I was procrastinating through the months, putting off re-writing my stories until later. Now, since it's 2010, I have made a New Year's resolution and now I'm gonna stick to it. I hope you guys enjoy this re-write!

**Summary: **Meet Franchesca Milanos. Figure skater, Tammy and Tommy's best friend, average student, and... hockey player? Join her odd, but somewhat cool adventure as she transforms from figure skater, to hockey player. Will she like being a hockey player or will she just stick to figure skating?

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the Mighty Ducks.

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Prologue: Sweaty and Painful VS Expression and Grace

Hey, my name is Franchesca Milanos—actually, it's more like Franchesca Amelia Katrina Milanos but, who cares? In fact, you can just call me Fran. That's what everyone likes to call me.

I grew up in the world of figure skating. Ever since I could walk, I was on the ice and I would never want to get off. I remember watching a figure skating competition on TV one day and I just fell in love with it. That was when I begged my mother to sign me up. She never opposed the idea of me signing up for figure skating and supported me every step of the way. The only way I could pay her was to skate my heart out just for her. I never got tired of it since.

However, I grew up around something that I wish didn't exist at all—hockey. All my life, my father was practically addicted to hockey. Though he does support me and my figure skating, all he talks about is hockey. Don't get this the wrong way or anything, but he talks about a sport where it contains violence, sweat, and coarse language as to anything else. I have watched the sport a few times but I always end up falling asleep in the middle of the game, with my father waking me up when the game's over and bragging or crying who won or lost.

The more my father talked about hockey, the more I hate it. My father and I can't have a father-daughter moment with him saying the word 'hockey'. I just wish that his mind would just focus on something else other than hockey, like my mother, whom he had missed her birthday for the past five years just so he could go to a hockey game. Would you want to go to a restaurant with _you_ as your mom's date? I didn't think so.

My life was going somewhat perfect, but more average. I have two best friends—Tammy and Tommy Duncan—who are always there for me and listen to my problems (especially with my dad and I), two perfect parents that support my every decision, a figure skating coach who's strict, but kind, and grades that could need more effort but are still decent.

It was all going perfect for me until one day, that all changed. My name is Franchesca Milanos. Welcome to my confusing world.

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**Author's Note: **There's your prologue! I hope you guys enjoy it! I would just like to point out that I don't hate hockey. In fact, I love it. A lot of my friends play hockey so I'm fine with it. Anyway, feel free to review—whether it's a compliment or constructive criticism, I'll take both. Just don't be so harsh, I'm pretty sensitive and I haven't written anything in a while.

Enjoy!  
-KnightLife.


	2. First Day of School

**Author's Note: **Okay, I know I haven't been updating much lately but with school and all, I just haven't found the time to continue writing. I'm not gonna stop continue writing, I wanna keep going. I just hope you guys review. Your opinion matters to me.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the Mighty Ducks or Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

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Chapter One: First Day of School

**7:00 AM**

My eyes flashed open when I heard the continuous _beeping_ of my alarm clock. I sat up on my bed and slapped the snooze button.

"Franchesca!" A voice echoed through my home—meet my mother, Annalisa. "Franchesca! Get up! It's your first day of school!"

I slammed my head back on my pillow as my mother maintained her high shrill throughout my home. I grabbed my pillow from under my head and shoved it to my face. I hate school.

"Franchesca!"

I groaned in agony, threw my pillow to the side, and lazily hopped out of bed. I lagged over to the washroom at the end of the hall and began washing my face. Then I went back to my room and started changing into my _decent_ school-wear. A simple t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans were enough to pass by as average for school. I brushed my long black hair and held it back with a headband. I made my way downstairs to the kitchen as I tried stiffing a yawn. I sat at the kitchen island where my mother was at the stove, stirring something in a pot that I hoped would not be my breakfast—I hoped too soon.

"Good morning sunshine!" My mother greeted happily.

"Hello." I yawned, man do I hate mornings.

I noticed that there was a bowl sitting right in front of me. I was confused. Traditionally, when it's my first day of school, my mother would make me chocolate chip pancakes with chocolate milk and (sometimes) a Coke. On the other days of school, I would just eat cereal and orange juice.

I pointed to the bowl. "Um, what's this?" I wondered.

My mother took the pot from the stove and poured out a dull grey and lumpy 'substance into my bowl'.

"Your breakfast." She answered plainly.

I was in complete shock. "What happened to your special pancakes you made for me on my first day of school? You know, the chocolate chip pancakes with chocolate milk and occasionally a can of Coke?"

She placed the pot back on the stove and turned to me with a stern look. "Things change Franchesca." She explained, "Since you're in a new level in figure skating, it's time for you to take it very seriously this year. That's why we need to get you on a diet."

"Diet?" I repeated.

She nodded. "Your health really counts this year Franchesca."

I looked down at the lump of yuck in my bowl. It took me half-a-second to figure out that it was oatmeal.

"So you expect me to eat oatmeal for the rest of my life?" I questioned in a worried tone.

"Not necessarily," she mentioned, "with occasional fruits once in a while." She made her way to the fridge and grabbed a small bowl of fruit—pineapple, watermelon, strawberries, and kiwi.

"Finally something I can actually eat!" I rejoiced.

"Eat your oatmeal Franchesca."

With that, I began eating my horrible tasting oatmeal then started chewing on my fresh and sweet fruit. After that, I made my way back to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I went back to my room and gathered all of the things I need for school; backpack, pencils, pens, notebooks, and so on. I shoved all of my school essentials into my backpack and ran downstairs.

My mother was waiting for me at the front door as she held my favourite blue sweater. I ran past her, grabbing my sweater in the process, and made my way to the car. I threw my backpack into the back seat and got into the front seat of our car.

My mother soon got into the driver's seat and started driving. As soon as she got on the road, I turned the knob, changing the radio station. I found an up-beat, hip-hop station as I started bobbing my head to the rhythm of the music. I looked over to my mother who didn't seem to approve of my music choice. She quickly changed the station to where they played long, classical music.

I looked out the window in total boredom as my mother lectured me about how certain music choices affect how the brain functions. I really didn't listen to my mother's lecture. Instead, I glared at the view of Minnesota passing by me—tree, after tree, after tree, after tree, after tree—I think you get the point.

The drive took forever. I came back to reality after my mother was nagging me with questions about school: 'do you have everything?', 'did you get your lunch money?', 'do you know how to get home?'. I simply answered the questions with one-worded answers. After a few minutes of intense interrogation, I was finally free.

I got out of the car and seized my backpack from the back seat. I climbed the steps to the school, being pulled closer and closer to the entrance. I heard the roar of the car engine drive away. I was about to take my first steps into the school when I heard somebody call my name.

"Hey Fran! Fran!"

I turned around and saw a girl with long, honey blonde hair and relaxed blue eyes run towards me. In an instant, I knew who it was—my best friend, Tammy Duncan.

"Hey Tammy!" I greeted as she climbed the stairs to the school. We gave each other a huge bear hug and started complimenting each other.

Tammy mentioned that I grew over the summer, which I found a little odd because I've always been shorter than Tammy by at least an inch or two. I paid attention to her tan she got over the summer—her family went down to Florida for half of the summer, lucky. We continued complimenting each other about how the summer has made us physically changed until someone else interrupted our conversation.

"Tammy! Tammy!" I looked over to see a little boy, slightly shorter than Tammy, with red hair and blue eyes like Tammy. I smiled. It was Tommy Duncan—Tammy's brother.

"Tammy!" Tommy yelled, he ran up the stairs and halted right in front of us. "I thought I lost you."

Tammy scoffed. "I'm right here you dope."

I couldn't help but laugh. At first, Tommy didn't even notice that I was standing right there, listening to the insult that Tammy shot at him. When he heard me laugh, he gave me a surprised look and smile at me.

"Fran," he said happily, "you grew!"

I laughed again.

"That's what I said stupid!" Tammy baffled, smacking Tommy in the back of the head. Tommy rubbed his head to ease the pain as the bell rang.

The three of us made our way to the sixth grade classroom where we found out that Mr. Machintosh—the boredom of all teachers—was our teacher. Tommy, Tammy, and I decided to sit in the back of the classroom, avoiding the long and boring lectures from the teacher. We continued talking about our summer when the second bell rang. I didn't know that we were the only ones in our class until a sea of students came pouring into the classroom, filling in the empty desks.

I noticed that there was a group of students all sitting together, like they were a gang. I knew those kids anyway; we went all the way back in kindergarten. Soon, Mr. Machintosh came into the classroom and gave everyone a goofy smile.

"Good morning everyone!" he said happily, carrying a suitcase to the front desk. "I'm Mr. Machintosh and I will be your teacher for this year."

Tammy, Tommy, and I gave each other a quick glance, uneasy about the school year since the most boring-teacher-in-all-of-Minnesota is our homeroom teacher.

"I'll start off the morning with attendance." Mr. Machintosh notified as he took a sheet of paper out of his suitcase, reading the names in alphabetical order by their last names.

"Franklin Anderson?"

"Here!"

"Olivia Addams?"

"Here!"

I didn't bother paying attention after the first two names were called out. I just continued talking to Tammy and Tommy about the summer.

"Lester Averman?"

"Here!"

I looked over to the front of the classroom and saw a boy with curly, red hair and big black-rimmed glasses strike his hand up in the air. Meet Lester Averman. A total goofball for the class, loves giving off his goofy two-bit words, and calling people odd nicknames. Once, he called me 'The Brain Buster' because of the grades I've been getting.

A few other names were called out.

"Charlie Conway?"

"Here!"

I glanced to the seat beside Averman and noticed another boy, this time, he had curly brown hair and light brown eyes. He had held his hand up lazily in the air. Charlie Conway. A pretty loyal guy, but I wouldn't know because we never really talk to each other.

A few more names were called and then Tammy's and Tommy's names.

"Guy Germaine?"

"Here!"

I glimpsed over at the desk in the corner of the classroom. Guy Germaine held his hand in the air, while he was gazing at the girl sitting beside him, whose name I totally forgot. He was wearing this weird hat with an awkward sweater to match it. I remember having a crush on Guy in the first grade, but I found out that he liked another girl so I decided to back off.

Other names were called out, and I soon remembered certain things about those people. Greg Goldberg, I thought he was supposed to be in Philadelphia? Anyway, he hangs out with Charlie a lot and he has a tendency of complaining about the smallest things. Jesse and Terry Hall, Jesse's the loud and outspoken type of guy and has a horrible attitude if you get on his bad side. His younger brother Terry is sort of like him, but he's somewhat more humble and tends to be in his brother's shadow. Dave Karp, a comedic type of guy who's a little chubby but, light hearted. Peter Mark, a short, spazztic guy with a huge attitude problem and likes to induce conflict.

"Franchesca Milanos?"

I quietly raised my hand, not even bothering to say: 'here'. I surveyed the whole classroom and noticed that every guy was staring at something. It took me a few seconds to figure out that they were staring at me. All of them were looking at me with huge smiles and gleeful eyes—even Guy. The girl that Guy was staring at took one look at me with hateful eyes and punched Guy in the arm. I looked over at Tammy, as she read my eyes wondering what's going on. She just shrugged her shoulders.

I put my hand down and started at my hands sitting on the top of my desk as Mr. Machintosh called out the next names.

Connie Moreau, now I remember her! She's the girl that Guy has a crush on. She's really tall—so tall; she could pass for an eighth grader. I also remembered why I had to stop liking Guy; her massive height scared the living daylights out of me. Then there's Fulton Reed. He's more of the outsider and he got held back by a year. Fulton's really quiet and reserved. I've been hearing rumours about him lately about colleges accepting him for a football scholarship and what-not. I never had the chance to believe any of them.

The last few names were called out and Mr. Machintosh began lecturing us about what would happen in the school year. Then, he assigned us our lockers. Thankfully, he let us choose our lockers and I've decided to choose my locker in between the Duncan siblings. We settled our things into our lockers and went off to class.

It was like any other typical first-day-of-school day. We go to a classroom; a teacher introduces themselves and talks about what they plan to teach us for the whole year. I didn't bother to listen so, I passed notes to Tammy talking about a bunch of random things.

When lunch came by, I sat with Tammy and Tommy and a bunch of other people that I didn't really care to know about. I glanced over at one table of the cafeteria and noticed that Charlie, Averman, Goldberg, Terry, Jesse, Peter, Karp, Connie, and Guy were sitting together and having the time of their lives. I looked over to another table and saw Fulton sitting there all by himself looking at his lunch tray.

When school was over, I went to my locker and gathered up my things. No homework—thank God. Tammy, Tommy and I have agreed to walk home together. I was talking to Tammy about our teacher, Mr. Machintosh, when I spied over her shoulder and saw that seven lockers down, Fulton Reed was staring at something (and thank God it wasn't me!). Fulton Reed was staring at my best friend since I was three-years-old, Tammy Duncan.

"Hey Tammy," I said, nudging her. "Fulton's staring at you." I nodded my head at his direction as Tammy followed my lead.

Fulton's face changed from awe to shock as he went back to his locker. I looked over at Tammy—who I swore I saw blush—and giggled.

"You so like him." I teased.

"No I don't!" she protested.

I didn't notice that Tommy was listening to our whole conversation until he actually decided to speak up. "It looks like he does." He said solemnly.

"Shut up Tommy!" Tammy yelled, charging for him. I held back Tammy's arms holding on with all of my might from her trying to kill her brother. One of the perks of having a locker in between the Duncan siblings—you get to stop their fights before one of them officially becomes an only child.

Tammy eventually calmed down and the three of us walked out the doors of the school. We all started walking home together.

"So your mom's putting you on a diet?" Tommy asked.

"Yup,"

"It's not those crazy diets, where you can't eat for days is it?" Tammy asked worringly.

I laughed. "No. I have to eat healthier this year. You know, since we're all in a new level in figure skating and all, I need to keep in shape for my competition."

"The New Directions Figure Skating Club?" Tommy wondered.

I cringed. "Yes."

Ever since I began figure skating with the Minnesota Figure Skating Club, this other figure skating club called: 'New Directions' has been dominating us in competitions for the past five years. I hate them.

"Eh, this year we'll knock their socks off." Tammy implied.

"I hope so," I replied.

When we came up to my house, I said goodbye to Tammy and Tommy and went inside. I threw my backpack over to the side and ran up to my room, getting ready for my first day back for my figure skating lessons.

I went in my room and grabbed a large, light blue suit case. I opened it up to find my figure skates, my skate guards, a small towel, a few extra pairs of gloves, and an empty water bottle. I checked everything over to see if it was all there and made my way to my closet. I picked out the essential wear for figure skating: tan stockings, a pair of grey sweat pants, and a plain white t-shirt.

I quickly changed and grabbed my suitcase, pulling it downstairs and resting it beside the front door. I searched for my water bottle in my suitcase and went over to the kitchen, filling the bottle with cold water and placing it back in my suitcase.

I went back to my room and lay on the bed. I turned over to my night table and found a book sitting beside the lamp. _Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief. _I opened the book and started getting lost in the pages full of imaginary adventure.

I read up to about the first three chapters when I heard the car horn honking, interrupting the small movie going through my head. _Great_, I thought to myself,_ time to get lost in the world of figure skating_.

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**Author's Note: **I was trying not to make my character feel like a Mary Sue when I talked about the part where every guy in her class was staring at her. I would also like to ask for your review. I really don't wanna sound desperate here, but your opinions matter to me.

Please review?  
-KnightLife.


	3. Three Months Later

**A/N: **Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews! I hope I get to see more in the future chapters. Please review, I really don't wanna sound desperate here.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the Mighty Ducks.

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Chapter Two: Three Months Later

I hate winter.

It's now November and my figure skating training is _intense_. So here's the story: since I'm in a new level for figure skating, my training has been going all-out awful. My mother has been so serious about the sport, she takes me out of class in the middle of the day to train. I spend two hours at the rink, practicing my routine and coming back to school around and hour before school ends with Tammy keeping me updated about the work I missed.

This sucks.

I know I should be thankful that I randomly get pulled out of school just for my figure skating training, but school's also where I can get my social life at hand. With the figure skating training interrupting that, my social life is going down the drain. I just want a break, hang out with my friends, and have a good time.

Now it's Saturday and I have a weekend practice. This time, it's with the whole club. I was excited and calm at the same time. Excited because I get to hang out with my figure skating friends and calm because I was used to the figure skating practices. My mother had to work so my dad is dropping me off to practice.

If I had to compare the car rides I get between my mother and my father, I would _definitely _choose my mother. She actually talks (well, more like nags) about my figure skating training, my dad is completely different. He ends up talking about hockey...of course. Just like I do in car rides with my mother, I just blank him out, staring out at the view of Minnesota passing by.

Car rides with my dad are different though. He actually lets me turn on the radio whenever I want, to whatever station I want, and he never complains. One thing I love about my father, he doesn't baby me like my mother does. He's the fun-_ish_ parent.

We pulled up to the rink's parking lot and we noticed that it was packed.

"The figure skaters are here already?" My father asked in confusion.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know, I guess."

My father quickly found a parking spot. He parked the car and hastily got out. "We'd better hurry."

I quickly got out of the car and ran to the trunk to get my skates but my dad beat me to it. He lifted the suitcase and ran towards the rink with me leading him. As we got closer and closer to the entrance of the rink, sounds of chanting and cheering were growing in my ears. I zoomed through the entrance, panicked. I ran for nothing.

Instead of figure skaters skating laps, I saw a team of hockey players getting warmed up. My father came up from behind me and dropped my suitcase beside me.

"Where are the figure skaters?" he panted.

I shook my head. I was...embarrassed? Actually, I didn't know what to feel. I was staring at the hockey practice in front of me. One thought came into my mind.

"Dad, what time is it?"

From the corner of my eye I could see my father check his wristwatch. "Eleven o'clock."

"Oh God,"

"What?" he asked.

"My practice doesn't start until one o'clock. I guess we should go home." I picked up my suitcase and headed towards the doors.

"Wait," my father said, "it took us an hour to get here. We'll just waste time if we go back home."

He had a point. You see, my figure skating club doesn't have an official rink to call their own. So the head coach has to book a bunch of random rinks around Minneapolis and tells us over e-mail which rink we have to go to for practice. I kind of sucks because my parents have a bad sense of direction and sometimes we get time confused—a lot.

"What do we do now?" I asked him, hoping and praying he wouldn't say the worse.

"Watch the game." He replied blankly. My face dropped.

I rolled my eyes and turned to the rink. My father found his way to the stands and sat down. I didn't feel like joining him so I just stood beside the rink, sitting on my suitcase.

There was a hockey team on the ice that was skating in a small circle, slamming their sticks on the ice and chanting something—it almost sounded like "fight". The team I was watching was wearing these black jerseys and they were called the 'Hawks'. I looked all over the rink to find the other team they're playing and I found another team that didn't look like hockey players at all. The other team was wearing these old bike helmets and had worn out sweaters as jerseys. Their only pads they had were magazines taped to their legs and their skates didn't even look legit. They were placed on the other side of the rink so I didn't get a good look at them. This should be a good game...

The Hawks were continuing their warm-ups and chanting weird things. From where I was sitting, I could feel their adrenaline pumping up, ready to beat the other team.

The 'worn-out' hockey team was just staring at the Hawks in amazement. I laughed to myself. I have a good feeling that this hockey game is going to be my favourite, and I don't even like hockey!

I continued staring at the Hawks' warm-up (because the other hockey team was doing nothing). I glanced over my shoulder to find that my father was talking to a man with black hair and blue eyes. They were smiling and nodding their heads, as if they were friends for a long time. I'm pretty sure I met most of my dad's friends in my lifetime and I'm pretty sure that I don't know this guy. I raised my eyebrows and stared back to the Hawks warming up.

When it was game time, the Hawks were doing this weird ritual thing. They kept on chanting 'win' over and over again and most of the crowd in the stands were joining them—even my dad. I just rolled my eyes, waiting for the game to finally start.

Before the game could _officially_ start, I noticed that the Hawks had too many rituals. First, chanting 'win' over and over again. Now, they were skating up to the goalie and slamming his pads with their sticks. I took one more look to the other team, _attempting _to do the 'hit-your-goalie-in-the-pads' types of thing like the Hawks did. It was a fail. Their goalie didn't have pads so they were hurting him. I thought it was pretty funny. One player even tripped him and he ended up hitting the goalie on the head over and over again.

The game started.

The Hawks were obviously on a winning streak. It wasn't long until the crowd started cheering a certain player's name: Banks. I tried my best to find the player, only to find out that he was player number nine.

He was good. Banks was pretty much the one who shot all of the goals for the Hawks. I have to admit: I'm impressed.

There was this one point in the game where one of the players from the 'poor' team actually had the puck. That was until he was about to shoot a goal—when he screwed up. Instead of hitting the puck, he just whipped the air with his stick. Then he got tripped by one of the Hawks and slid to the boards.

He held the board to help him stand up. The player had brown hair covered in sweat and beady brown eyes. When I saw him, I was in shock.

"Charlie?" I jolted.

Through the glass, it seemed like he heard me because his eyes widened when he saw me.

"Fran? What're you doing here?" He asked loudly, through the glass.

"Long story...look out!"

I saw a player from the Hawks skate up from behind Charlie and push him against the boards. I almost fell back, as if Charlie was about to tackle me. I didn't notice it was Banks who pushed Charlie to the boards. Now that was mean. One thing I hate about hockey—it's violent. My perspective of the Hawks went from adoration to a bit of hatred.

"Charlie, are you okay?" I asked in a worried tone.

He climbed back up and smiled weakly, "I'm fine, thanks."

He faintly skated off to his team and I just shook my head.

The game continued and the Hawks were winning—what else is new? I eventually got over the fact that Banks pushed Charlie to the boards and watched the game. Just to be polite, I lightly clapped for anyone who scored the goals—which were the Hawks.

When the game was over, it was easy to pick out who won—the Hawks, seventeen to nothing. Let me put it this way, the Hawks made the game look like they passed a pre-algebra quiz. I stood up from my suitcase and pulled it to where my father was sitting, he was still talking to that guy. Once my father saw me, he immediately took effect to introduce me.

"Hey Fran!" my father greeted, and then he pointed to the man he was talking to earlier, "This is Philip Banks, Philip this is my daughter Franchesca."

I shook his hand. "You can call me Fran, Mr. Banks." I said lightly.

"Well, you can call me Philip, Fran." He said.

I sat down beside my father and blanked out from the conversation between him and Mr. Banks. I was staring at the zamboni cleaning the ice. A boy about my age came walking to us. He had a big smile on his face; his blue eyes matched the ones like Mr. Banks' and his blond hair was covered in sweat. He was carrying a huge hockey bag with his jersey sticking out. I glimpsed over at his jersey and saw the number nine stuck permanently attached to the piece of clothing. That's when it all made sense—this guy is Banks, everyone's favourite player.

"Hey dad," Banks said with a smile.

"Adam!" His dad greeted, "Adam, this is my new friend Carlos Milanos and his daughter Fran."

Adam shook my father's hand and then mine. That's when I thought—he's hot, as he shook my hand, I thought I would melt. Then another thought came into mind: Adam was the one who pushed Charlie to the boards. I also found out that Mr. Banks was the father of the Hawks' best player. My emotions changed from admiration, to disappointment. Even though Charlie and I have never really talked to each other, I still consider him my friend. I can't just mad at Adam, I just met him, so I have to try to stay nice. It's the only polite thing to do.

"Nice game you played out there." I complemented. He let go of my hand.

He gave me a bigger smile. "Thanks."

"So I guess you're the best player on the team." I said.

He scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I guess,"

I beamed, not knowing what else to say. Then a loud voice made me flinch.

"Philip!" A man yelled. He started walking over to us. He had grey hair and grey eyes to match. He came up to us with his hand sticking out to Mr. Banks, shaking his hand. "Your son played good out there," he turned to Adam and patted him on his swaet-covered head. "Good job son."

Adam smiled. The man with the grey hair turned around to my father. Mr. Banks opened his mouth to start the introductions but that man stopped him before he could get one word out of his mouth.

"Carlos? Carlos Milanos?" the man with the grey hair asked my dad.

My father beamed. "Hey, Jack! It's been a long time!"

Jack and my father shared a hug. I couldn't help but hold back laughter—I've never seen two men hug before. I glanced at Adam, I could tell he was thinking the same thing as I was. We both ended up sharing a quiet laugh. As my father and Jack let go, my father gestured his hand to my direction. Here we go again.

"This is my daughter Franchesca. Franchesca, this is my long time friend Jack Reilly, he coaches the Hawks."

Jack grinned at me and stuck his hand out as I shook it. "Pleased to meet you Franchesca."

I tried not to cringe at my full name. "Pleasure, Mr. Reilly."

"Oh, call me Jack." He looked over at my father again. "She's beautiful Carlos, has your eyes, though she looks a lot like your sister."

I blushed when Jack called me beautiful. I never knew I looked like my father's sister. Funny thing is, I've never met anybody from my father's side. Not even a single picture proves that my father even has a family. It's pretty mysterious if you ask me.

Jack, Philip, and my father went on talking about whatever. After the first few seconds of the conversation I found myself feel very bored. The zamboni driver was double-checking the ice to see if it was smooth enough and he parked the zamboni behind the boards. I could've sworn that Adam was taking those quick glances at me every now and then. You know, the kind of glance when someone stares at you and when you feel that tension, you turn your head to the source but they snap their head in a different direction? That glance.

I peered over to the doors and saw a woman rushing through the doors. She had dirty blonde hair and she seemed pretty stressed out. Then I figured out that the women rushing through the rink was the head coach for the figure skating club: Coach Carter. She was carrying at least three full bags of something and her expression on her face seemed like she was hiding the tiredness from her eyes.

"Hey coach," I said as I walked up to her.

She stopped when she saw me. "Fran what're you doing here?"

I thought of the sense of déjà vu coming through me again. Charlie asked me this question. So I replied the same way I did with Charlie.

"Long story."

"Oh, well, if you want, you can get ready now and start your warm-up."

I was searching the rink for other figure skaters.

"None of the figure skaters are here yet,"

She smirked and winked, "Extra practice?" she asked.

I beamed in return and nodded. I turned to my father who was still in his conversation with Mr. Banks and Mr. Riley.

"Dad," I felt three—well, four if you count Adam—pairs of eyes turn to me. I ignored the other three pairs and focused on my dad. "Coach wants me to warm up now."

My dad inspected the rink to see if the other skaters came by yet. It was obvious that the rink was pretty much empty but he completely ignored the fact. He shrugged his shoulders. "Sure."

I took my suitcase to the change room and got ready. I felt my face twist as I changed into my skates because the changing room I was in was filled with the smell of sweat and it was weird.

After I got into my skates, I walked out to the rink, started skating my laps, and pretty much free skating. I was practicing my jumps (for some reason, I keep falling on my double axel) when I noticed that the other skaters have finally arrived. Tammy was asking the same question as Charlie and Coach Carter asked and I answered her with the same 'long story' reply. She laughed it off and went off to get ready.

It seemed like a lifetime for the other skaters to get ready. They all did their laps around the rink and went on to free skate. Tammy and I were hanging out at one corner of the rink talking and practicing our spins. She sighted my father talking to Philip and Jack.

"Who're those guys talking to your dad?" Tammy asked.

I followed her gaze and shrugged my shoulders. "Just some guys my dad met earlier."

Then she caught the sight of Adam. "Who's he?"

"Adam Banks, he plays hockey."

Tammy was smiling really and gave me this weird eye. "He so likes you."

I raised a brow, not even thinking about replying.

"Have you seen the way he's looking at you?" she questioned me with excitement. I looked over at Adam. The moment he caught my eye he smiled widely and waved. I couldn't help but smile and wave back. I felt a rush of heat run through my body and to my cheeks.

"Maybe he's just being friendly." I replied sheepishly, trying to hide my blushing.

Tammy laughed. We both heard a whistle blow and it was time to be serious for our skating.

* * *

**A/N: **Hope you guys like the chapter! I do apologize if this chapter does not make sense. Please review?

-KnightLife.


	4. Dress Shopping

**A/N: **Hey guys! I hoped you like chapter two! This chapter may change from one event to the other so I hope I made sense of it.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the Mighty Ducks.

* * *

Chapter Three: Dress Shopping

After my figure skating practice, I noticed that Adam, his father, and Mr. Reilly left, leaving my dad to sit in the stands alone. I did feel a bit sad that Adam left, I kind of wanted to talk to him more.

As my father and I walked over to the car, I asked him how he knew Jack Reilly. He didn't really reply much, he just said that he used to work with him. I just don't get why my father has to act so distant with me.

Along the way home, dad mentioned that we were going to have dinner with the Banks' next Saturday at some fancy restaurant called 'Chez Whitey'. I asked him why; he said 'to get to know the family better.'

After that, the whole car ride was silent. I turned on the radio to a hip hop station, and almost blasted it to full volume. I hate awkward silences.

* * *

It's now Monday and the regional competition is coming up in less than a month. Somehow, my dad convinced my mom to stop taking me out of school in the middle of the day. It seemed to work. I don't have one single private practice for the rest of the week! The only practices I have this whole week is with the group. I'm happy.

Since the regional competition is coming up soon, mom suggested that I should start arranging my figure skating dresses. Which means I have to go shopping, my worst nightmare.

I have to admit, I'm sort of a tomboy. I can't stand dresses. Whether it's those dresses you wear at some fancy party or figure skating dresses, I hate them all. I still don't get why figure skating dresses are necessary in a competition. Tammy says it shows off the skater's body figure and shows more style and grace—the essential things needed to gain more points in a competition. I say horse patooties!

The school day is done and I was happy that I got to finally hang out with my friends. Thank God rumours didn't go out saying that I was pregnant or something. I was at my locker, taking out the necessary things I needed for homework.

One thing I hate about school: the homework. I started putting on my coat, gloves, and scarf.

I saw Tammy walk up to her locker as she greeted me happily. "Hey Franny."

I sighed, "Really Tammy? Franny?" I really don't like people calling me Franny—unless it's someone that close to me.

"I thought you liked Franny?" she asked as she opened up her locker and grabbing her books.

"Yeah, if it's someone close to me."

"Aren't I your best friend since you were three?"

I rolled my eyes and laughed.

"Hey, did you buy your figure skating dresses for the regionals yet?" I questioned, changing the subject.

Tammy shook her head. "Nope,"

"You wanna come with me this Saturday?"

Tammy had this look on her face as if she was about to get pushed off a cliff.

"What?" I wondered.

"Is your mom gonna come with us?" she had a point. When my mom comes dress shopping with us, it's a total disaster. It's so much of a disaster that I don't even know where to begin.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I hope not." Before Tammy could say no, I changed the subject as fast as I could, "Anyway, there's no need to go to the mall for the dresses."

"Why?"

"My mom mentioned this place called: 'Han's Sport Shop'. It has everything for every sport, _even_ figure skating. Besides, the dresses at the mall are like two hundred bucks. The dresses at the sport's shop are like fifty. I don't know about you Tam, but I like cheap."

Tammy laughed. "Cool. I guess I could go. Besides, I can convince your mom to let us shop alone."

I smirked. "Yeah, good luck with that."

Then, Tommy walked up to us and went to his locker. He and Tammy started getting into a heated debate about the regional competition. I took a few good minutes to listen to this argument and I have to admit, it was pretty funny. I randomly left the argument and found myself strolling over to Charlie's locker a few lockers down from Tommy's.

"Hey Charlie," I said as he was stacking books in his locker.

"Hey Fran," he replied glumly. I thought of something quick to say.

"I'm sorry that you lost the game on Saturday."

He chuckled, "It's no big deal really, we're used to losing."

"Really?"

He nodded.

"At least you played the game right?"

"Yeah, well...what were you doing there anyway?"

"I told you it was a long story."

Charlie leaned against his locker giving me a sly smile, "I have time."

So I told him the whole story. From the part about the car ride with my dad, to the end of my figure skating practice—excluding the parts about my parents and I having dinner with the Banks' this Saturday and me meeting Adam, his dad, and Reilly.

Charlie let out a long sigh. "Wow."

"Yeah, I know."

Then he explained his side of the game. How his team got a new coach, how his coach yelled at the team a lot and what-not. Then he mentioned that Connie, Guy, Karp, Peter, Jesse, Terry, Goldberg, and Averman, and whoever else he mentioned, were on the team too.

"No wonder you guys are so close a lot." I admitted.

He nodded; his face almost looked like he was embarrassed. Then I heard someone call my name.

"Hey Fran!" I turned to see Tammy and Tommy all ready with their coats and hats on and backpacks hung over their shoulders.

"Let's go," Tammy ordered.

I turned to Charlie, "I guess I gotta go."

"See ya,"

"Bye."

I walked back to Tammy and Tommy and they both had appalled looks on their faces.

"What was that about?" Tammy asked curiously as she pointed to Charlie.

"Nothing, just talking, that's all." I replied easily.

"You guys never talk." Tommy implied.

"New year, new chances."

We headed out the doors of the school and began walking home together.

* * *

"I have to admit Tammy, kudos to you for convincing my mom for us to shop alone." I complemented.

Tammy smiled, "Thank you Franny, years of practice, but it was worth it."

I didn't know what she meant by that, but I went along with it anyway.

We were walking to Han's Sport Shop talking about our up-coming competition. We also talked about our biggest rival for five years—The New Directions Figure Skating Club.

We entered the shop (which looked really empty) and walked to the figure skating section. As we walked, we heard a loud scratching sound coming from the back room, the sound of skates being sharpened—at least it's good to know that someone's here. Not only they had practice figure skating dresses, but they also had some cool competition dresses too. Tammy and I spent a good hour finding our perfect figure skating dresses.

The both of us had to find two dresses—one for our short programs, and another for our long programs. I found this beautiful light blue dress for my short program and this fancy black dress for my long program. Tammy found this intricate hot pink dress for her short program and a simple white dress for her long program.

After we found the dresses we needed, we paced ourselves to the front of the store where the cash register was. The place still seemed empty except for the sound of skates being sharpened.

"Geez, for a place this lonely, the owner could at least get a few employees around here." Tammy complained. I nodded in agreement.

We heard the door to the back room creak open and a man wearing a long brown trench coat came out from behind. He had light brown hair that was combed back and calm grey eyes. Tammy and I took a small step back, afraid of who this guy is. I pictured myself dropping the dresses and run out of the store, but I didn't do it. Instead, I just stood there, scared and hoping this guy wouldn't do the worse.

The man spotted us and slowly walked up to us. "Are you two buying something?" he asked us in a friendly tone.

None of us answered, but Tammy ended up replying for the both of us by nodding her head.

The man gave us a small smile. "I'll be right back." He went off to the back room. Everything went silent. Tammy and I shared a nervous look. In less than three seconds, the man in the trench coat came out of the back room followed by a much older man with white hair and a bright smile.

"Well hello," the old man said happily to Tammy and me, "I didn't hear you two come in. Would you like to pay for those?"

This time, I replied for the both of us just nodding my head. Tammy and I walked up to the counter and placed the dresses in front of the man, who walked behind the register in no time. The man with the brown trench coat walked from behind the counter, making his way to the front door.

"I'll see you later," the man said coolly as he walked out the door. Tammy and I shared a confused glance and turned back to the old man.

"So are you two paying together or separate?" the old man asked with a smile.

I was about to answer 'separate' but Tammy beat be to it and answered: "Together."

"How much money do you have?" I asked her.

"About two hundred." She simply answered. The old man counted up the total of our dresses through the cash register. The total of all of our dresses were $167.81. Tammy ended up paying her two hundred dollars and received a good amount of change in return.

"You know, I have something to go with those dresses." The old man said gleefully.

Tammy and I shared a puzzled glare as the old man walked through the door to the backroom. He came out in a flash holding two small thing in his hands—hair ribbons. One ribbon was blue, white, and black, the other was pink and white.

"Here you go, now you two can look presentable in your competition coming soon." He said as he handed us the ribbons.

"How did you know?" I asked him curiously.

"I have a poster." He replied with a grin. He took something out from below the counter and showed us the poster for the regional competition coming up in less than a month—oh God.

"How much are they?" Tammy asked, taking her wallet out, ready to pay for them.

The old man shook his head, "No charge, they're free."

Tammy gave me a look of shock and jammed her wallet in her purse. The man placed the dresses in gift bags with the hair ribbons and handed them to us. We thanked him greatly and exited the store.

Soon, the feeling of tension and anxiety flew away with the fresh air and we soon felt calm and relived.

"I'm hungry, let's eat!" I said out loud, proud to be free.

* * *

Tammy and I found this little delicatessen a few blocks away from the sport shop. We decided to eat here even though we've never heard of this place in our lives.

As we entered the restaurant, we found Goldberg wearing this cute little hat and an apron. He was cleaning tables and when he saw us come in, I could tell he felt embarrassed. He quickly pulled his hat off of his head and gave us a goofy smile.

"Tammy, Fran...what're you doing here?" he asked nervously.

"Lunch." We both replied with no emotion.

"Well, take a seat." Goldberg said, gesturing us to a table.

Tammy and I thanked him and sat down at the table he pointed to. We both had a sorry feeling for him so we told him to join us. He hesitated at first, and then he sat down. This was the first time that Tammy and I had actually talked to Goldberg.

We found out that there was a lot to learn about Goldberg—like how his family has owned the deli for the past century, and that the 'Gregie Globslob' was his signature sandwich he made for the restaurant. Tammy and I were curious to try it, so we ordered it. Goldberg did get in trouble for talking to us, but with Tammy's convincing, he's now allowed to talk to us whenever he was on the job.

Tammy and I ate Goldberg's sandwich he invented and I have to admit...it was really good. I don't know what he put in it, because he said it was a secret recipe.

I ended up paying for the both of us. Thankfully, Goldberg's mother gave us a discount just because we knew Goldberg—so I had to pay barely half of what I have. Goldberg seemed happy to talk to us as he waved good-bye to us. His mother invited us back anytime for a_ free_ lunch.

With that, Tammy and I strolled through the streets of Minnesota, laughing and talking about figure skating.

We were having a fun time...that was until we walked through the biggest mistake of our lives.

* * *

**A/N: **I hope you guys like this chapter! I do apologize if it doesn't make sense. I'm really tired of sounding like a broken record here but, please review? Whether it's a complement or constructive criticism, you're opinions do matter to me. Also, I'm planning to post pictures up of the dresses and hair ribbons soon.

-KnightLife.


	5. Dinner with the Banks Family Pt 1

**A/N: **Okay, so I really don't know why I'm not getting that many reviews. Am I such a horrible writer? If I am, I want you to tell me and I'll stop writing the story. I'll give myself a few more years to re-write this story if I have to.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the Mighty Ducks.

* * *

Chapter Four: Dinner with the Banks Family (Part One) 

Tammy and I were walking home from our shopping trip when we passed by an alleyway. We didn't notice anything bad happening when we passed by it, though we did hear someone scream: "Let's get out of here!"

Soon enough, I felt a really heavy weight push me into my left side, causing me to fly onto the cement. I felt my hand let go of my figure skating dresses. A huge object fell on top of me, causing me to breathe really short breathes. My legs felt the most pain; something really hard was hitting them. A wide stream of pain circled my back as I wailed in despair.

"Ow!" I screamed. I didn't notice I had my eyes closed until I opened them only to find something—or someone—on top of me.

"Adam?" I asked, as his face turned bright red.

"Hey Fran," he said with slight embarrassment.

I tried pushing him off of me. "Will you get off of me?" I asked angrily. He immediately got up and held his hand out to help me up. I grabbed it and pulled up, I looked down and noticed that he was wearing roller blades, no wonder I felt pain on my legs.

As I stood, my back was screaming in pain as if someone was trying to eat it off. "Ow!" I cried as I sat down on the wet cement. Adam leaned down beside me, panicked.

"Are you okay?" he asked frantically. I felt tears stream down my face, though my hands were clutched to my back, I didn't even bother to wipe the tears off.

"Fran, are you okay?" Tammy asked as she rushed to my side. I shook my head repeatedly. I felt a hand on my shoulder and saw it was Tammy's. Then, two shadows toppled over us. I looked up and saw two boys, one with light brown hair and the other with red hair. Then I looked over at Adam and the two other boys, they were wearing Hawks jackets. I obviously knew that Adam was a Hawk the day we met. The guys that I didn't know were Hawks too...wow.

"Where does it hurt?" she asked, ignoring the two boys.

"Is she okay?" the boy with the light brown hair asked.

"Shut up!" Tammy ordered. "Fran?"

"My back." I felt my voice go hoarse. Then another thought came into mind, "Tammy, the dresses."

She looked up to the snow banks behind us as I followed her head. Crap. Our dresses were covered in snow, all ruined. I noticed that Tammy's dresses were ruined too—I'm guessing she got pushed over as well. She ran to the dresses and tried to pick them up without being slpashed with snow.

"Let's get you up." Adam said. He took my hand and draped my arm over his shoulder. The boy with the red hair came rushing to my other side, taking my other hand and draping my other arm over his shoulder.

The boy with the light brown hair decided to help Tammy with picking up the dresses. I could tell Tammy didn't want his help because whenever he tried to give her a dress he found in the snow, she immediately grabbed it and gave him a death glare.

"Can you stand?" The boy with the red hair asked. I felt really weak and my back was killing me. So I shook my head. Finally, Tammy gathered all of the dresses.

"There's a payphone across the street Fran." Tammy said as she looked over my shoulder, at the pay phone, "I can call your mom to pick us up."

I felt the tears blur my vision, but I nodded my head. Tammy ran across the street to the pay phone. I dropped my head on Adam's shoulder as I stood there, crying. For some odd reason, I felt much better now that I rested my head on Adam's shoulder. My back still hurts, but I do feel comfortable. The two boys holding me up were careful not to rub my back, in case they would make it worse. So instead they were repeatedly asking me if I was okay. Adam took a tight grip on my hand. I could feel him lightly stroking the back of my thumb for comfort.

The phone call didn't last very long. Two minutes at the least. The three boys taking care of me were protecting me like watch dogs. Tammy came back, yelling at the three boys for not being careful. Then she went on saying that they ruined my chances at the regional competition because of my back and the dresses would take forever to repair.

After a long time of nagging, I heard a car horn from behind me. My mom was here. She parked the car on the curb across the street, got out and ran over to me. She asked all of us what happened, but Tammy and I left it to the boys to explain. They all apologized repeatedly. I didn't know what to say, so I just gave them a gloomy glare. My mom decided to help me back to the car, but Adam refused to let me go, so he helped her. They both took me to the back seat of the car as Tammy took the front seat. My mother explained to the boys that it was all an accident and she wasn't mad.

My mother drove off, leaving the three boys to stand on the street curb with guilty looks on their faces.

When my mother drove us home, she said she would clean the dresses for us and that Tammy and I could hang out for a while. Because of my back, we couldn't do much, so we just sat in my living room and watched TV. When my mother was done fixing the dresses, she offered to give Tammy a ride home. Mom was still cautious of my accident so she told me to take a rest. The minute the car pulled out of the driveway, I fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Franchesca, wake up." I felt someone shaking me. I slowly opened my eyes to find my mother waking me up.

"Are you feeling better?" my mother asked softly. I shrugged my shoulders, rubbing my eyes from the sleepiness.

"Can you stand?" she asked lightly. I sat up on the couch—that's a step-up. My mother placed her hands on my arms and pulled me up. My back went stiff, but it wasn't in pain. I'm well again. Mom smiled. Then dad came into the picture.

"Hey Fran," he said in a semi-happy tone, "your mother told me what happened today. You feeling better?"

"I'm standing, aren't I?" I questioned him sarcastically. He smiled.

"Good, so I guess you're well enough to go to dinner tonight?"

Dinner. I forgot all about that. Dinner with the Banks' at 6:30 at 'Chez Whitey'. I had no choice but to go, I nodded my head. Dad smiled again.

"Go get ready princess." Dad said as he kissed me on the head. Dad hasn't called me 'princess' in a long time.

"I've already laid out your clothes for you in your room." My mom informed me. "And don't forget to put your hair up!"

I walked up to my room. On the bed, I found a skirt that went down to my knees, covered in blue, green, and white flowers. Beside it, I found a deep sky blue blouse and a black cardigan. Below the bed, I found these white ballerina flats that don't even look like they fit me. I gave the outfit the look of embarrassment. Then I realized that the restaurant we were going to was a five-star restaurant. I had no choice but to wear this crap.

I quickly changed into the outfit and combed my hair, putting it into a messy bun. I checked myself over the mirror. I look like a doll—in a bad way.

Before I knew it, my name was being called form downstairs.

"Franchesca!" my mother yelled, "Let's go!"

I zoomed out of my room and downstairs. I never thought I'd see the day where my parents actually dressed formal for once. My dad was wearing a suit and tie, as if he was going away on a business trip. My mom was wearing an expensive pair of beige pants with a silk gold blouse to match it and golden high heels. I was in awe. We all looked like one high class family.

"Are we ready?" my father asked the both of us. My mother and I nodded.

Dad opened the door for us like gentleman as we made our way to his car. Another shock—_his_ car is clean. Dad opened the passenger door for my mother and then the back door for me. Dad ran over to the driver's seat and began driving. Mom turned the radio on and switched the station to where they played classical music. I tried my best not to hyperventilate over the music.

The car ride was silent for the first few minutes. Then I decided to speak up.

"Dad?"

His eyes veered through the rear-view mirror. "Hm?"

"Where is this place anyway?"

"Uh...up north, a few miles from the mall."

I nodded my head. The car ride went silent after that. It felt like forever getting there. The sun began to slowly set behind a row of buildings as we drove on. Finally, we were at the restaurant. I didn't bother wait for my dad to open my door for me. I just hopped out while my dad opened the door for my mom.

Dad led us to the entrance and we went inside. There was an elegant waiting area with leather couches and a red carpet leading into the restaurant. THere was a sea of people in the waiting area. They all had this attitude as if they don't care if they get seated or not. They were all laughing and talking like mature people.

"Carlos!" the three of us shifted our heads to the source of the voice and I saw Phillip Banks walk up to us with his family behind him.

"Hey, Philip!" my father greeted, shaking the man's hand.

Philip let go of my father's hand and gestured his hand to a women standing behind him. "This is my wife, Penelope."—then he pointed to a young man (probably in his teens) who stood behind Mrs. Banks—"My oldest son Callan,"—and then he pointed to Adam—"and you remember Adam."

Mrs. Banks is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen—next to my mother of course. Mrs. Banks had long honey blonde hair and calm light blue eyes. She was wearing this long silk red dress as if she was going to a movie premier. Callan Banks was pretty handsome. He was the splitting image of Mr. Banks—only he was a teenager and he has a full head of hair. Callan was wearing the same thing as his father, which was really creepy. Adam looked like Adam—except for the sweaty head. And instead of wearing sportswear, he was wearing a shirt and tie—casual yet, formal.

"Pleased to meet you." My father said in a business-man-like tone. Then he gestured to my mother and me. "This is my wife Annalisa and you and Adam remember Franchesca right?"

We all shook hands with each other, saying 'hello' and 'pleased to meet you'. I tried my best to keep a smile on my face, but since Adam's here, I feel totally uncomfortable. Just seeing him again, made me wanna run out of the restaurant. When my mom shook hands with Adam, she acted as if the accident that occurred between me and him didn't even happen.

"Well," Mr. Banks said after the introductions, "our table is this way."

Dad and Mr. Banks led us to the table. Mom and Mrs. Banks were following them, talking like they were best friends since high school. I didn't know I was walking beside Adam or that his older brother was trying to pass us because we were walking so slow. My mind was blank, the only thing haunting my mind was the accident that happened earlier today.

"Fran?" a voice sailed through my mind softly. That was when I blanked back to reality and noticed that Adam had called my name. I didn't bother answering him, so I just glared at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a guilty tone. I shrugged my shoulders. I didn't know if I was mad, sad, okay, or hurt. I'm not mad at Adam, but I don't feel like I wanna talk to him, but at the same time, I kind of do wanna talk to him, well...talk about anything besides the accident.

"I'm really sorry." I can tell by the tone of his voice that he really meant it from the heart.

"It's not your fault." I admitted, still having this gut wrenching feeling that I shouldn't talk to him, "I wasn't looking where I was supposed to."

"Yeah but, neither was I. And on top of that, I had roller blades on."

We finally arrived at our table, a table for seven. Mr. Banks sat at the end of the table, while my father sat beside him. My mother and Mrs. Banks were sitting on the other side of Mr. Banks, still talking like high school cheerleaders. Callan sat at the end of the table, beside my mother and Adam's mother. I sat beside my father and as Adam sat on the other side of me. I felt very awkward, sitting in between two boys.

All chatter became silent as a tall man with black hair and a deep tan came walking up to our table with a handsome grin on his face. His deep brown eyes beamed over every single person at our table. I could've guessed that he would be speaking in a Spanish accent or something.

"Good evening and welcome to Chez Whitey. My name is Malcolm and I will be your sever for this evening." Malcolm said in a happy tone, I was surprised that he spoke with such a good American accent. I did say 'or something' didn't I?

Malcolm proceeded to pass out menus to each of us, explaining the special—which I didn't even bother listening to because the word 'liver' was involved—and telling us that he'll be back in a few minutes to collect our orders. I quickly grabbed the menu that was sitting right in front of me. I opened it to find a lot of uninteresting entrees that have seemed to have taken away my appetite.

I felt a light tap of my shoulder. It was Adam.

"What're you getting?" he asked behind his menu, probably trying to the attention from the parents.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Everything here sounds really disgusting." And it does. I mean, _escargot_? Isn't that French for snails? Oh, _frog's legs_? Yeah, I'd ask for the check right about now.

I heard Adam chuckle.

"I don't think it's a laughing matter!" I whispered in an angry tone.

"You know, there are edible things in here too."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Steak,"

I scoffed, "Yeah, like I'll be able to eat that!"

He gave me a confused glare. "Are you on some kind of diet or something?"

I felt guilty talking about my certain diets to people. It makes me think that they think I have an issue or something. To answer Adam's question, I nodded my head.

"Why?" he asked in a strong tone.

"I'm a junior-gold in figure skating. If I keep in shape from now until I'm sixteen, there's a definite chance that I'll enter the Olympics before I turn the age of eighteen."

"Oh..." he said slowly, I could tell that he thinks I'm on some crazy diet.

"I'm not on those eating-disorder diets if that's what you're thinking." I implied defensively.

"I'm sorry," the tone in his voice sounded like the one from before, when he apologzied to me earlier. "There is pasta," he said on a higher note.

I raised my eyebrows. "I like pasta."

Adam and I shared a laugh as we debated on what to get for the next few minutes. For some reason, my appetite grew back again. I told myself that I shouldn't get over-excited about this dinner—sometime, somehow, it will end in disaster.

* * *

**A/N: **Well. there's the first part of _Dinner with the Banks Family_! I hope you guys like it. The second part will be up soon.

Please Review?  
-KnightLife.


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